


Stardust

by LightningInABottle



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Canon - Musical, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Lesbians, No It's Really Vague, Non-Explicit Sex, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One-Sided Amane Misa/Yagami Light, One-Sided Relationship, Prose Poem, Sad Ending, Shinigami Eyes, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, Yagami Light is a Dick, elements from the anime, mostly from the musical though, musical verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 07:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21316351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningInABottle/pseuds/LightningInABottle
Summary: A realm of death has no room for life, and a Shinigami has no room for love. At least, they aren't supposed to.When Rem becomes tied to a human girl, she soon finds herself out of her depth. She has a duty to fulfill and rules to follow, so she will. Love is foolishness and foolishness is something to avoid at all costs.But it's hard to ignore when with every passing day, she grows closer to Misa and closer to breaking the most important Rule of them all:Never save a human. Not unless you want to become stardust.
Relationships: Amane Misa/Rem, Amane Misa/Yagami Light, Rem & Ryuk
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	Stardust

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you like this fic!! It's mostly based in the musical!verse of Death Note, and if you haven't seen the musical, I highly suggest checking it out.  
Enjoy <3

A figure made of bleached bone and pale shadow walks a realm of death with a notebook tucked under her arm. She watches the world below her feet, watches millennia come and go, clashes build up and then simmer apart. She watches the humans eat, sleep, hate, adore.

And somewhere in the place where her heart is supposed to be, a little place hollows itself out, barricaded against the cruelty of the place she calls home. 

It’s not much, and there’s nothing there yet, but she knows of its existence. A little void, and one word to fill it. She feels it tugging at her, sometimes, but it remains empty. A piece of herself, set aside for something else— _ someone  _ else. Set aside for love. But she ignores it because she has to, and because she cannot bring herself to come to terms with it.

After all, there are rules. And then there is stardust. 

* * *

Rem doesn't understand it at first, sacrifice. The word itself rattles around her, ties itself around her bones, and then inevitably unspools and slips away. She stares at humanity, the little creatures ensnared by their fleeting wants, their selfishness. And she watches them die. It used to be frequent, the years from her Death Note stretched to the brink before another was written down. Now, centuries are woven into her cloak, and she cannot recall the last person she took. 

The Shinigami realm is quiet, a hollow blanket of silence only shattered by an occasional echo or rattle of bones. But when Rem spies Gelus staring down at a girl, she hears the faintest drift of music. 

She thinks she can hear it again, a whisper of a memory, when she looks at the girl. Gelus is gone, silver dust in the night’s wind. The price he paid for love. Misa stumbles back in horror, palms hitting the concrete as she looks up, staring at the pale specter appearing before her. Rem isn’t shocked; her human form can often be startling. In comparison to this fragile, pretty girl, Rem is a piece of a world that shouldn’t exist. But then, Misa’s expression changes to one of fascination.

“What  _ are  _ you?” Her lips part, the gloss on them catching the streetlight. If Rem didn’t know better, she would think it blood.

“Please don’t be afraid.” Rem lets her voice carry through the still air as she kneels beside her. “My name is Rem. I am a Shinigami.”

Her eyes go wide. “You’re  _ real _ ?” Little hiccuping gasps start to shake her slender frame, and Rem reaches out to steady her by the arm. She knows her touch is bone-chillingly cold, especially compared to the warmth of Misa’s skin. But Misa doesn’t seem to be affected. “You saved me...are you Kira?”

Something sharp and cruel—like a thorned vine—winds and unwinds in Rem’s chest. Irony, she supposes. For a second, the temptation is there, to lie, to cheat, to fulfill every expectation of her. But Rem swallows the words as if they are acid, and shakes her head. “I am not your savior.”

The girl is not deterred. “Can you help me find Kira? I have to find him. My parents...he gave them peace. He gave them justice. And in return, I must give him my heart.”

Rem stares at her, wonders what on earth could drive Gelus to sacrifice himself. The girl is nothing special, not especially clever or talented. But she is charming, and Rem can finally understand it, just a bit, when she starts to ask about Kira. It’s love, pure adoration that colors the air around her pink. In turn, Rem explains Gelus, and how he ended up throwing everything aside for an idea of Misa. 

“He fell in love with you from the Shinigami Realm. The stalker, the one that was following you, was meant to kill you, if not for Gelus’ intervention.” It all happened so quickly Rem had no time to stop him. Just Gelus, scribbling down a name in his Death Note and crumbling just as fast. 

Misa glances around. “Where is he now?” 

“In saving your life, he sacrificed his own. We are meant to take lives, not draw them out.” Rem is aware of how barbaric this must sound to one raised in a world of excuses and softness. But her realm has no room for anything except duty and boredom. 

“Why?” Misa asks, simply. 

“It’s one of our Rules. We cannot extend the life of any human being for any reason. We use our Death Notes to write the name of the person we want to kill and how. If no cause or time is given they die of a heart attack in forty seconds.” There are other Rules, of course, but they all seem so distant now. Rem passes the book to Misa. “It’s yours now.” 

Misa takes it, almost in a daze. “And if you do? Break a Rule, I mean.”

Rem nods to the silver dust flying away. 

“Oh,” Misa nods. “I suppose I should be very thankful, then.”

And Rem realizes, at that moment, that she would do anything to protect this girl, protect her heart and mind and grant every small wish. It happens within a fraction of a second, but she doesn’t quite understand it yet. Not completely, at least.

“Why do you need to find Kira?” 

Rem knows who Kira is, the human who possesses a Death Note, and is using it to pick off those he deems unworthy of life. She hasn’t witnessed Ryuk’s Note used this frequently for centuries, and it’s almost startling to see this girl want to seek the owner out. But she listens to Misa talk, speak of the debt she owes to whoever is knocking criminals down one by two. She is rarely moved by tragedy, but cannot hide the twinge of pity in her heart when Misa tells the story of how her parents died. And how Kira is her one and only savior, plucking her from the clutches of numbness and throwing her into a world of brilliant color. 

“How do you know it is a him?” 

Misa pauses, stumbling over her words. “He  _ has  _ to be. We wouldn’t be destined to be together otherwise.”

At this, Rem cannot hide her amusement. Objectively, she knows Light Yagami is, in fact, a  _ he _ , and is also Kira. But something about the way the girl says it, as if anything else is inconceivable, makes Rem push the subject. “Did you not think  _ I  _ was Kira, if only for a moment?”

Misa stumbles for a response. “You’re...you’re not a proper woman anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” She coughs, straightening up. “How do I find him?”

Rem hides her flinch, a physical recoil from Misa’s comment. Instead, she sneaks a glance above Misa, where letters and numbers hover. So young, and already, her days are numbered. Half her lifespan is too steep a cost for Rem to grant. But in the end, she has no choice in the matter. However, she can choose  _ when  _ to condemn the singer. The sand will keep trickling, but she can pause the hourglass, keep the balance just a bit longer. She may not be able to shatter it altogether, but at least she can stop any more grains from falling.

“I can tell you...”

“—thank you!”

“...but only after you come home and rest. You are now my responsibility, and I must make sure you are taken care of. The shock hasn’t set in yet, and I would rather speak in the morning.”

Misa seems ready to protest, but after one look in Rem’s intensely violet eyes, she relents. That night, Misa stumbles home into her apartment, only to burst into hot tears, ones that come on the wings of sobs that shake her whole body. Rem hesitates, watching her fall apart. Stay neutral, she tries to tell herself, but it sounds hollow, ringing through her mind. 

So instead, she steps forward and wraps Misa in her cloak as she cries. The spirits soothe her. Or at least, that’s what Rem wants to think, as Misa’s breaths even out and she falls asleep in her lap.

* * *

Shinigami Eyes. The ability to see a person’s name, hovering above their head like a brand. In exchange for half your life, you can kill anyone you see with the Eyes and the Note. 

“You don’t want them,” says Rem, with a removed kind of certainty, a sheet of ice that has been scraped too many times. She certainly feels like it—with this realm warm like softened butter around her. Humanity’s heartbeat thrums around her, a steady pulse of lightning, and Rem knows she could wrap her fingers around it and  _ snap.  _ Such was the power of a Shinigami, and such was the power this hapless girl was ready to make a deal with.

“I do.” Misa must think she sounds romantic, but all Rem sees is her head on the chopping block, all for someone she doesn’t know. 

“You trade tangible years for counterfeit emotions?”

Misa glares up at Rem, her eyes hazy with sleep even with the fierceness confined within them. She knows Rem cannot stop her from making the deal. “It’s not like you would understand. Thousands of years and all you’ve learned is how to take and take. Why can’t you take this from me?”

Something lodges itself in Rem’s throat; an answer, perhaps, that can’t seem to find its way out. “Thousands of years and I’ve learned that love is not a constant you should aspire to keep.”

Misa barks a laugh. “And how would  _ you  _ know? If you felt like me, you would do anything.” 

Anything, including slicing her own life in half for a power that will only cause more suffering. Rem lets out a sigh. “You understand the terms of the deal?” 

“I understand.” Misa’s hand, trembling even despite its softness, comes to rest on Rem’s wrist. “I want the eyes,” she whispers. 

“Love—”

Misa interrupts her. “—Is for mortals—”

Not for Rem, never for her. “—And fools.”

But what can Rem do but push down the fondness growing in her chest like a parasite and wind her cloak around Misa? Energy hums around them, the universe rewires itself, the fabric of the world tenses and unwinds. Misa closes her eyes without being instructed to, like some primal instinct within her knows that it’s better not to look. When she opens them again, she gasps. She runs to the high rise window and looks out over the crowd, numbers crowding her brain. Her grin is wild and almost bloodthirsty as she sees the fragility of human life.

Rem feels sick, but something in her can’t help but smile.

* * *

“So…” Misa perches on the edge of the bed, eyes wide and eager as she kicks her legs back and forth. A crucifix hangs from her neck, silver and engraved, swinging away from her throat only to rest in the hollow of it once more. Rem cannot help but be reminded of a hummingbird, with its little fast-beating heart and iridescent feathers. Her hair has been let loose from its ties, and a copper sheen comes through in the lamplight. If she had wings, they would be wonderful, glossy, paper thin things that flutter behind her like that of a storybook fairy. 

“So?” Rem stands because she doesn’t sit, doesn’t sprawl, not in this unfamiliar realm. Even at her full height, she does not reach the ceiling. She stands out, stark white against saturated golds and blacks and reds—like a valentine with all the color leached out. 

Misa fixes her with a bright, sharp gaze that shows no fear. “Is it difficult, killing that many people?” She pauses, catching her bottom lip between her teeth and chewing. The lipstick’s almost worn off now, red staining her mouth like new blood. “I mean, do you feel bad when you write in the Note? Or sad?” 

Rem would laugh, but she hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it yet. “No, I don’t. It is my existence, my  _ purpose _ , if you will. Do you feel bad for singing?”

Misa pauses, fiddling with the crucifix. “My singing makes people feel happy.”

“And Kira? Does he make people feel happy?” 

Something sharp pierces Misa’s expression, and her lips part like the kiss of a blade against skin. “ _ Yes.  _ He kills for a purpose, for a better world.” She’s taken on that unfocused look again, a dreamy sort of distraction that makes Rem uneasy, if that were such a thing she could feel. “He’s our savior, all of ours, especially mine. You kill for yourself, because you have to. He kills to make the world good again. Kira shouldn’t ever feel bad, because he’s loved.”

This is the side of Misa that isn’t soft and childlike. It’s the ruthless girl that cheers every time the radio broadcasts another rundown of Kira’s victims, the one that dreams up horrific ways to kill and writes them on a sticky note in preparation for the real thing. Rem wants to tell her that the world will never be good, not while humans still walk it. She wants to warn her to stay away from Light Yagami. And most of all, she wants the raindrop-quick patter of Misa’s heart against the fabric of her cloak. Instead, she answers the original question, if only to turn Misa’s attention from Kira. 

“I cannot feel bad, by definition. It would go against the reason for my existence. Humans are like specks of dust to Shinigami, in the end.” 

Misa’s eyebrows twist together. “And am I a speck of dust too?” 

Rem doesn’t realize she’s stepped forward until the backs of her long fingers are trailing over Misa’s faintly-pinked cheeks. “No,” she admits. “You are my charge. And, if you permit it, a friend.” 

“Do you feel  _ anything _ ?” Misa frowns, and Rem has to pull away because the magnetism of her pulse has grown too strong. 

Rem tries to smile, hopes it isn’t too grotesque. But then again, Misa seems to surround herself with grotesque things. Little polished animal skulls and teeth strung together. Crystals and occult charms line the shelves of her room as surely as icons and crosses do. Diagrams of hearts and spines are framed like family photos. A picture of her parents stands right next to the television. Dead things. And then there’s Rem, who’s only immortal on account of never being alive in the first place. Perhaps it’s the backdrop that makes Misa seem so beautifully alive. 

“I don’t feel the same way you do,” Rem tries to explain. “I can feel anger, sadness, jealousy. Happiness, if the situation permits. But your emotions are yours alone; I cannot feel them, or even sense them. Empathy is not known to my kind as it is to yours. And everything is muted. I have a purpose and rules. Aside from that, all else is irrelevant.” 

“Except me.”

Rem nods. “Except you. Your existence is what permits me to feel more than what is expected.” She takes a deep breath she doesn’t need. “Death is just an eventuality. It’s all dust and ashes in the end. What purpose is there in fleeting love that changes as quickly as the moon cycles its phases?”

“Maybe.” Misa huffs. “I bet you think I’m crazy, being in love with someone I haven’t met. But it makes sense for me, like we were meant to be together.” 

Rem doesn't respond, so Misa does. 

“You don’t like when I talk about Kira.”

Rem shakes her head. “I don’t trust him, and you shouldn’t either. He kills with a purpose, and that’s what makes him dangerous. Shinigami choose indiscriminately. Good, bad, young, old, it matters not. But if he can choose...what stops him from choosing those who anger him?” 

Misa stands up as well, craning her neck to look at Rem’s face. “Will you kill me?”

There’s no point in lying. “Yes.” 

“Will you enjoy it?”

Rem finally figures out how to smile. Her cloak wraps around the small of Misa’s back, pulling her close in a flutter of white fabric. “There’s nothing that would cause me greater distress.” These are the moments she enjoys, above else, where Misa relaxes and the sweet exhale of her breath is the only sound in the air. Misa is always so alive, and it shows, in each movement of her body, in the smile of her eyes, in everything she says. Everything that Rem isn’t, with pale bones and paler hair and eyes that are too hollow to be normal. Life and death, they are not enemies, but instead yin and yang. Too similar to be separate, too opposite to be together.

There are rules, ones that Rem is sworn to follow. But moments like these are permissible. 

Misa pauses. “Rem?”

“Yes?” 

“Do you feel love?”

Rem tries to answer, but finds herself frozen in place. Something foreign tugs at her body, like puppet strings. She settles for running her hands over Misa’s hair, down her neck, feeling the hummingbird thrum of her artery. 

And she does not speak. 

* * *

It wasn’t supposed to happen so soon. It wasn’t supposed to, but it did. Rem wishes she could protect this girl’s innocence just a bit longer, keep her from falling over the precipice of bone and death. Because once she does, Rem knows that there’s nothing either of them can do, no way to go back, no way to pour the sand back into the hourglass. 

They were walking on the street, on the way back from Misa’s studio, when the screech of tires drew Rem’s attention. Misa had been in a surprisingly good mood, coasting on a high from the latest news broadcast. The entire time, she talked about writing a song, some kind of tribute to Kira. Her producers shot it down, said it was too  _ controversial,  _ and Rem was bound to agree. Although she knows the reason Misa wanted the Eyes was to meet Kira, it still feels like a sting when she hears Misa actually take steps towards her ultimate goal. 

Rem turns, just quick enough to see the numbers above a man’s head. 00:00:03. And then an arm extends out of the truck that had parked by the curb, the pistol shining. Misa opens her mouth to scream, but it’s too late. The man is already falling, a spurt of blood painting the alleyway behind him. The driver of the car keeps going, but not before he looks out and calls:

“Don’t say a thing!” 

It’s not much, but it’s enough. Rem sees Misa drop her bag on the ground, digging through for the Note. Rem doesn’t speak, not only because she can’t extend a human’s life, but because a sliver of her still worships death, reveres it. She is drawn to the way it hangs onto Misa, and she wants to see it play out. Misa flips the notebook open, pencil scribbling frantically. The name is written; it is done. 

Rem can hear the countdown in her mind. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Misa rises to her feet, eyes wide with exhilaration. She doesn’t seem afraid, doesn’t seem guilty. Only shocked, either at herself or at Rem for not stopping her. “He was a criminal. It’s what Kira would have done.”

The man dies, truck screeching to a halt, the thump of his body against the steering wheel unmistakable. Rem and Misa lock eyes.

“So what do you think?” Her voice is small, craving approval.

“I think,” says Rem, slowly. “That you are very pretty when you kill.” 

Misa’s blush burns brightly against the wind.

Rem ends up adding the five remaining years of the man into her cloak. The news will report it as a drive-by, followed by a heart attack at the wheel. A sad, dual tragedy. It’s a few days later that a businessman with multiple charges of sexual abuse under his belt and his embezzling assistants all die and the name  _ The Second Kira _ spreads like a wildfire. And two weeks after that is when Misa releases her new song, laden with secret clues.  _ Find me,  _ she says to Light Yagami,  _ find me.  _ And if that isn’t enough, the police station is sent a letter, one that is broadcasted nationwide. 

“At 4:00 we will meet at Shibuya where we will show each other our Notes and confirm with gods of death.” 

Nonsensical to everyone except Kira. Rem feels helpless. She will do anything to keep Misa away from him, and she knows that the urge is based more on selfishness than altruism. But she doesn’t want to see Misa die. 

She is still here because she follows the Rules. She won’t start breaking them now. 

* * *

It’s far past midnight, and Rem is as silver and still as the full moon hovering outside Misa’s window, the light pushing past the curtains to bathe the room in shifting patterns. Rem watches Misa sleep, each even rise and fall of her chest, each quiet murmur. The way her blonde hair spills over the red pillowcase, the curve of her lips, the way shadows catch at the hollow of her throat. She’s beautiful while she’s awake, but this is a different type of beauty, not unlike that of a porcelain doll.

Rem, despite all desire to keep her safe, will always have that bit of instinctual need to break, to take. But she’s already taken enough, she tells herself. Now it’s her duty to protect. However, dreams are far beyond the jurisdiction of a Shinigami. So Rem simply stands, helpless, and watches Misa’s breathing grow erratic, legs kicking under the blanket, fingers twisting in the sheets. Murmurs grow into something sharper, but still unintelligible.

She wonders what nightmares torment Misa’s mind. In hindsight, she would curse herself for the cluelessness leading up to this. But her eyes do not see the veil of dreams, and she finds herself equal parts worried and entranced by the sheen of sweat building steadily on Misa’s forehead. Does she dream of death? Is that a concept that tortures her, now that she has witnessed the concept becoming a reality? Not death, perhaps, but pain? Rem wants nothing more than to wake Misa from whatever troubles her.

But then, Misa’s eyes snap open, somehow both bright and dark. A frustrated sort of sound leaves her, and Rem doesn’t quite understand. She doesn’t know when she realizes it, but it’s not until she sees the blankets shift and Misa’s head tipping back against her pillow. And then she feels rather stupid, and although there is no blood to rush to her cheeks, she still feels uncomfortably warm. So not a nightmare, she figures, a bit too late.

Misa shifts under the blanket. Rem’s nonexistent heart leaps into her throat. Even in the semidarkness, she can make out the shine of Misa’s gaze, staring directly at her before her eyelids flutter closed. Little details like the beauty mark on her chin, or the curl of her lashes, have long since vanished in shadow.

“Can you see me?” It trembles like a stray music note, as breakable as the glass earrings she wears. 

Rem has no words, or cannot formulate them, so she simply nods. She thinks that this is the closest she can get to feeling alive, all fragile and trembling. Not unlike Misa, who has sat up just enough to stare at her. The blanket remains tugged up around her shoulders, but the movement of her hand underneath is unmistakable. 

“Come here,” she whispers. 

Rem stands where she is. Rules are rules, even senseless ones. “I am not allowed.” She doesn’t know where the line is, but the risk of becoming cinders and dust holds her back from trying to find it. The bright blush on Misa’s cheeks is as intoxicating as each heavy breath she takes, and Rem is so completely lost. “Do you want me to turn away?”

“No!” Misa’s voice jumps up to a yelp, but she softens almost immediately, abashed. “No...I want you to.” Almost shyly, she kicks the blanket aside. Rem can see every inch of her, every sliver of skin. She drinks it all in, starved and suddenly struck with longing that hurts. It carved out a place in her, a place to always keep this memory. Misa, face scrunched up in pleasure, knowing that Rem is watching and savoring every second. It’s truly enthralling, the look on her face.

It doesn’t happen all at once, and if Rem wasn’t paying attention, she wouldn’t notice that it happened at all. She only knows that she’s moving forward, a small shuffle at a time, until she stands at the foot of Misa’s bed. Misa’s gaze never wavers, but a hint of a sound leaves her. There’s something desperately adorable about it, and Rem thinks that she might break just from watching this. And then, before she knows it, Rem finds herself creeping increasingly closer, until she could reach out and touch Misa for herself. The smooth fabric of her skin, the heated blush on her neck, every place where blood pulses and twists through arteries.

And suddenly, it takes all of Rem’s willpower to hold herself back. Instead, she leans directly over Misa, faces only an inch or so apart, taking in each heated exhale. Their eyes meet, and Rem could drown herself in this moment if it meant she could remember it forever. 

Unfortunately, their stolen moment is short-lived. A match lit, burnt, extinguished. It starts with a sharp cry lodging itself in Misa’s throat as she arches up, a hair’s breadth away from Rem. Her eyes are closed and that means Rem is free to unspool the truth from her gaze as she watches Misa’s come apart. Misa goes boneless against the sheets, chest rising up and down as she relaxes. Her eyelashes flutter as she blinks up at Rem with pupils so wide they may as well be bottomless pits. Everything goes still.

It’s over as quickly as it started.

Misa smiles shyly, and her blush seems to glow in the dark as she wipes her hand on the sheets. Rem takes a seat at the foot of the bed; she is slowly becoming accustomed to this world. 

“What did you dream about?” The way Rem asks it is far too vulnerable, leaves too much in the open. But the words are there, said and released into the world, and now they must be answered. There is no method to reel them back in and rephrase, because words are not bowls and plates that can be healed with only the slightest vein of gold. They are permanent and they stain the air like inkblots. Rem holds her breath.

Misa turns away, pulling the blanket back up to her shoulders. “Kira.” 

If Rem were just a bit more accustomed to the human world, she would be able to recognize a lie. And if she were just a bit more intuitive, she might be able to recognize the truth. But she recognizes neither, and instead, withdraws, squeezing her eyes shut to hold back the prickle of hurt.

It’s easy to forget that this girl isn’t hers; that she has promised herself to someone else. 

* * *

“How long do I have left?” Misa asks as they walk to the square. They have a few more minutes left, and Misa is wound right with nerves. She looks to Rem every couple of seconds, as if asking for guidance, and there is no acknowledgment of what happened last night. Nothing, like Rem has been erased from her mind in favor of someone better. 

It’s a bitter feeling, but Rem pushes it aside, even as it wells up, venomous around her. “I can’t answer that.” She knows that Misa has time, but once she meets Kira, everything goes wrong. An explosive chain reaction. “But it will be longer if you turn back now.”

Misa’s eyes flash, and even though she doesn’t look at Rem, the anger in her voice is clear enough, snapping like a bone. “You don’t get it, do you? Kira and I are  _ meant  _ to be together. Bound by fate, through life and death and love.” They are at Shibuya Crossing, crowded with people and flashing lights. She looks around, using her sunglasses to obscure her glancing. The pedestrians all have a lifespan, but she looks for the one with just a name. Down the street is a bus station, but even those standing there have the numbers. 

“Misa,” Rem whispers. This is her last chance. “I’m begging you, please listen. He doesn’t know who you are yet, there’s still time for you to leave.” If Misa cares at all, then she’ll listen. “I’m trying to save you.”

Misa turns around, finally, and there’s no hint of the girl who looked up at Rem with such vulnerable hunger. There’s only the vicious, snarling thing she becomes at the mention of Kira. A fanatic with needles for teeth and scissors for tongue. “I don’t  _ need  _ saving. Kira punished the man who killed Papa and Mom for me. What have you done?” She scoffs, goes back to looking over the street. “It’s love, not something you’d understand.”

It stings like a nettle in Rem’s chest. So their time together really did mean nothing. But she has no time to dwell on this, to let the hurt seep through her, to fall back into it, because Misa is yelling: 

“Him! It’s him! He doesn’t have a name!” A few pedestrians give her strange looks, but other than that, no one pays her any mind. Rem follows the direction Misa is pointing, and sees a boy. He wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, if not for the lack of death date and the monster walking next to him. “ _ Yagami! _ ” Misa shouts it across the street in her excitement. “ _ Light Yagami!” _

He turns, seeking her out on the other side of the crossing. “ _ Misa _ ?” Light gapes, and Ryuk waves cheerily. “You’re…”

Misa nods vigorously. They approach each other, as close as they can get without getting in the way of the cars. “I can see your name.”

“So you’ve got the eyes.” Something in the way Light looks at Misa sets Rem on edge. Like she’s a tool, a useful pawn in his game. She glares. 

Misa pays her no mind, but there’s no reason to, now that she has Light. “Rem gave them to me.”

“Rem? I can’t see him.”

“ _ Her _ . My Shinigami. Here—” Misa tries to hold her Death Note out to Light, but almost falls into the street. She crosses quickly, and Light puts his palm on the book. Rem feels his stare fall on her. 

She stands up, letting the spires of bone on her back bristle, letting her cloak billow around her like deadly fog. “If you harm her, you will come to regret it.” For a moment, Light almost looks frightened, but Misa lays a hand on his arm. 

“Don’t worry. Rem’s a bit protective, no,  _ over _ protective of me. It’s cute, really.” 

Even though Rem still feels bitter, she can’t help but soften at Misa’s words. Such is the spell she has cast; no matter what hurtful things she says, it can all be remedied with a single throwaway smile cast her way. It’s nothing more than a paper heart, but it affects Rem all the same. 

Light nods, holding his Note out. Rem hears Ryuk laugh, and the responding shriek that Misa has to bite back when she sees him. He keeps laughing, until he finally nods. “Hiya. Ryuk’s the name.” He turns to Rem, eyes bulging out of his skull just a bit more. “Rem. Welcome to the human world. All sorts of fun, doncha know?” Something about his smile makes Rem uneasy, like he can see everything that’s happened since she met Misa. Like he can see the feelings pouring out of Rem, an overstuffed doll with broken stitches. 

Misa is still looking at Light, absolutely enchanted. “Make me your girlfriend,” she says. “And I will give you my eyes.”

Ryuk whistles. Rem does her best not to wince. She knew this would happen. She knew and she still chose to stand by Misa. Now, she feels ready to shred herself into ribbons, if only to match her emotions. 

Light simply raises an eyebrow. Not a flicker of feeling. “Oh, you’re serious?”

“I am.” Misa’s voice wavers, but she holds her ground.

“Prove it.” Light takes Misa’s wrist, leads her to a bench where they sit. He leans over her, a deliberate move, and nods his head towards a man standing on the other side of the crossing, at the bus station. He’s far away, but still clearly visible. “There’s a man over there, he’s been tailing me—”

The desperation is back, fizzling in Rem’s chest. “Don’t do this, Misa.” 

Ryuk gives her a reproachful look. “ _ Rem. _ ”

Misa frowns, her eye catching on a man in a pale coat and a wide-brimmed hat. “Is he a criminal?” 

Light purses his lips, and the answer is clear for Rem to see. Kira doesn’t only kill wrongdoers, it seems, but anyone who gets in his way. “He’s trying time stop us from being together,” says Light, after a long pause.

Rem has to try again. “Misa, stop this now.” Her voice strains, stretches itself over the space between them. It’s a chasm she may never cross. 

“Objectivity,” Ryuk chides, watching the exchange with macabre glee. 

Light turns his dead gaze on Rem. “Do you mind?” he snaps. “You don’t speak for Misa.” He wraps an arm around her, protective. 

“There’s no going back after this.” Rem knows this is the point where everything goes wrong. 

Light’s eyes narrow, and Rem cannot help but think that she has made a very dangerous enemy. “Maybe that’s for the best.” He looks at Misa, suddenly turning gentle. “If you really love me as you say, you’ll do this for me. Tell me his name.” 

“Don’t listen!” Rem cries out, stepping towards Misa. She has to save her from Light, even if it ruins whatever was between them. So what if Misa hates her? At least she’ll be safe, far away from Kira’s vengeful claws. But before Rem can reach them, Ryuk is there, materializing next to her, holding her back. 

“Stay out of this,” he growls in her ear, keeping her from moving forward. 

Misa spares Rem only a glance before turning to Light. “His name is Mogi Kanzou.”

“...Mogi Kanzou. Thank you.” Light stands, abruptly. “Go home, act like nothing happened.”

“Is that all?” Misa frowns, reaching after him. 

Light nods. “I’ll contact you when I think it’s safe. We can meet on my college campus.” 

“Even if we could change the world together?” Misa squeezes her eyes shut. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. 

“Not today. You’re useless to me if you get caught.” Light takes the Note out from his back, starting to walk away. Something on his wording must’ve finally gone through to Misa, who gasps. 

“Do you even love me?”

Light composes himself, turns around. “Of course I do. Now go home.” 

Rem wants to step in, she wants to save Misa from this. But it’s already too late. She slumps, and as if sending her defeat, Ryuk lets her go, leans away. “Remember your impartiality, Rem.” Ryuk’s face goes serious, if only for a moment. Then, he laughs. It’s an awful sound, like the screeching of metal, or a boulder pushed away from a cave, but it is familiar nonetheless. “Love and the like will always vanish. Look at the young couple now.” He jerks his chin towards where Misa stands, hands balled into fists at her side and a red flush painting her cheeks. Angry tears look ready to spill from her eyes, 

“It’s not her fault.” Rem’s protest is weak. “One cannot control who their heart desires.”

Ryuk chuckles, having the decency to look away from where Misa has begun to shake, clipped words shouted from between gritted teeth. Light pays her no mind, simply flipping through the pages of his Death Note. To outside observers, it simply looks like two teenagers having a fight. But Rem has felt the tug of death, and she knows Light has written the name of the detective Misa gave him. 

“No…” Ryuk hums, thoughtful as his gaze slides towards Rem. “One can’t.”

She bristles, tearing herself away from watching the fight. “What are you implying?” Even to herself, Rem sounds tired and hollow, like a bone that has been tossed around too many times. 

Ryuk beams, showing a mouth full of sharp, curved fangs. “Absolutely nothing.” He strolls away, the spikes along his back standing up. “If you’ll excuse me, dear friend, I have a soul to reap.” With that, his bulging eyes burn crimson red, and he turns towards Mogi. Forty seconds is up. The detective throws himself in front of the bus veering down the street, as if he was waiting for it to come. 

Misa blinks, as if feeling it as well, even though that’s impossible. “I have spent  _ everything  _ to find you,” she shouts at Light, who has flipped his Note closed with a faint smile. “ _ Everything!”  _ Stumbling away, she runs, vanishing past the corner of the nearest building. Rem watches the roll of Light’s eyes, the way he boards the next bus without a second thought. She catches a glimpse of his eyes before he does, and is almost startled by how empty they are. Like there is nothing behind them—only a vacuum and a twisted idea of justice. 

And then she goes after Misa, ignoring Ryuk’s laughter echoing around her. 

“Is everything alright?” A pang shoots through Rem’s heart, keeps shooting until she thinks she might be overcome with these emotions that shouldn’t even exist. “Misa, he’s gone. It’s just me.” She turns the corner, and there is only one person, standing by the wall. Misa is quiet, leaning against the brick alleyway, but Rem would recognize the red of her jacket from anywhere. 

Misa turns, wiping at her eyes. She’s been crying, or trying not to. “I’m fine. I just...I thought it was going to be different.” 

Rem goes to stand by her. “Different how?” She already knows, of course, but what else is there to say? “I’m sorry,” she tries. 

“Do you ever think,” Misa’s breath look caught in her throat, and she looks directly at Rem. “Do you think of how things could’ve turned out? If Kira didn’t exist.” 

Rem circles around to face Misa. “Yes, I do.” It’s whispered like a secret, like a confession, like something that was never meant to be said out loud. 

“Oh?” Misa stands up on her toes, as high as she possible. Even then, she still falls a bit shy of Rem. Her breaths are soft, caressing Rem’s cheek with all the lightness of a feather. She winds her arms around Rem, as if to hold herself up. Rem responds in kind, even if she doesn’t quite know what’s happening. Moving by instinct, her hands find Misa’s waist—holding her up, up against the wall, at equal height. Their foreheads brush, and Misa’s lips part, a circle of blood. 

All she can think about is how  _ angry  _ she is. Angry at Light and his manipulations, angry at Ryuk for stopping her intervention, and angry at Misa, for always demoting Rem to second choice. It isn’t fair, how much Rem would do for Misa, how much she has done, and the most she can hope for is moments like these. Borne of desperation and loneliness, still bodies pressed together in silence. Where do they go from here? How many lines can they cross before Rem breaks a Rule or Misa decides what she really wants? 

It doesn’t take anything for the spell to break, no great action, no monumental thought. Just Rem, who sets Misa down and stumbles away. This isn’t real. Misa doesn’t want anything from her except the Eyes and the Note. Aside from that, Rem is just an overprotective thorn in her side, someone standing in the way of Light Yagami, her  _ true love _ . It only makes sense that Misa would take comfort from Rem while thinking of Light the entire time. Rem is nothing but a replacement, and even then, not even a replacement Misa truly wants. Ryuk is right. She needs to remember her impartiality. 

She takes a deep breath. “There are rules I’m sworn to follow. And…”

Misa’s pretty face twists into a frown. “And?” 

“You’re only doing this because Light Yagami rebuffed you.” Rem silences Misa’s protest with nothing but a sad smile, tucking a stray strand of rose gold hair behind her ear. “Trust me, Misa, I know.”

They take the train back. Neither of them speak.

* * *

Rem shouldn’t have been so careless. She shouldn’t have left Misa alone for so long, shouldn’t have withdrawn into her little shell of self pity. It’s Light Yagami’s fault, swooping in to take Misa away from her, making Misa write down more and more names until Rem had no choice but to take them. That left Misa vulnerable, open to becoming a casualty in the crossfire between the detective, L, and Light. But despite all of Rem’s failings—distancing herself from Misa, following through with the work of the Death Note—she never could have anticipated everything going so awry. Because it shouldn’t have happened, that afternoon. 

Although Rem didn’t see the tennis match, she didn’t see Misa realizing L’s true name, didn’t see Ryuk changing the course of the game, she did see Misa dragged out of her home.  _ Arrested.  _

They hadn’t found the Note yet, but it was only a matter of time before she gave Light away. No matter how determined she was, Rem knew it would be impossible to hold up under torture. Because that’s what would happen to Misa, who only ever acted in love. She would be taken by morally bankrupt detectives and pushed, pressured, compressed, until she broke into a million pieces, giving up not only herself but the one she cared for most. It would be impossible for her to keep going, and either the physical or the emotional strain would come crashing down on her like a fiery meteor from the sky. And only a crater would be left, a shell of a girl. 

Rem doesn’t know what to do, at first, so she simply watches. After all, that is what she’s good at. She watches Light, more frustrated at potentially being discovered than at Misa’s danger. She watches Ryuk, sitting back and being entertained by the unfolding chaos. She watches L set up his horrific electroshock machine and then swiftly looks away because not even the strongest of beings could handle this. Maybe Rem is cowardly, maybe she is weak, but maybe love has acted like a slow poison, making her strength collapse and her fortitude give out. 

She watches, and four days later, she finally visits.

Misa is still chained to the cross—shaking, the seams of her tearing apart, and her life, which once fluttered so powerfully, is now a sluggish pulse. The machine she was hooked up to is shut off, for now, but the remnants of electricity still ravage her bones. A blindfold covers her eyes, and Rem slips it off of her, unable to stand a moment longer. It feels as if her heart is ripping itself in two, and she longs to wrap Misa in her cloak, keep her safe from everything that aims to hurt her. Rem has never been a creature of regret, but now she knows that if she had the chance, she would never give Misa the Note, much less the Shinigami Eyes. Better to let the girl fume and whine than to condemn her to this. 

But it’s too late now. Their fates have already been decided. 

“...Rem?” Misa’s voice is hoarse from screaming. Her pupils dilate, then grow small, as her vision adjusts. “Rem, you must leave.” 

“How much longer do you intend to endure this?” Rem doesn’t know what she’s pleading for. All she wants is for Misa’s pain to stop. 

“Until I die, or you kill me.”

“ _ Misa. _ ” Something in Rem’s voice is as strained as a piece of thread, pulled to the snapping point. “Light Yagami is not someone worth dying for.”

Tears fall from Misa’s face like hot raindrops. “You don’t understand, do you? You don’t understand love, don’t understand what someone would do for it. I would rather be tortured a thousand times over before I say a word to incriminate him. You’ve never been in love like this.” 

Rem feels as if though she has swallowed sand and bits of glass, and they claw at her throat until it bleeds from the inside out. “There is another way to move forward, with no death.”

Misa looks at her. 

“Forfeit ownership of the Death Note, and it will erase all your memories of it, and anybody associated with it.”

“But what about—”

Rem cuts her off. No telling what hidden cameras are watching. Although nobody else can see a Shinigami, Misa’s words could still be recorded. “You will not remember that Light is Kira, but that also means you cannot give him up. However, if your memories of the Note are erased, the only thread between you two is cut. Your feelings will remain, as strong as they are now, but with no memories to tie them down. You will be trapped—” Rem swallows, bites the rest of the words out like bile. “—In a one-sided love.” 

This is what Misa wants, she reminds herself. It doesn’t matter what she thinks anymore, it doesn’t matter what she feels. Misa must choose for herself what to do. It is out of Rem’s hands, and has been the very moment Misa met Light. Their destinies were written in stone, and Rem’s fragile nails aren’t enough to claw it out. 

“So,” she murmurs, not looking at Misa, “choose carefully. Do you forfeit the Death Note and all the experiences that come with it?” 

It only takes a second. Misa’s eyes fall closed, and a short whisper leaves her in a single breath. “ _ Yes _ .” 

Nothing matters anymore. The least Rem can do is grant Misa’s wish. She laces their fingers together, brushes her other hand over Misa’s feverish forehead. There is a rush of energy, and then there is silence. 

Rem vanishes. She has something else to do.

* * *

Rem is the very opposite of foolish. She knows when Misa was destined to die, had she not chosen the path of the Second Kira; and she knows that now, Misa’s lifespan is whittled down to the hour. This is the price she paid for the Shinigami Eyes, for finding Light. Rem also knows that there is no way for her to free Misa. And finally, she knows who she has to see. She appears in the corner of Light Yagami’s bedroom, where he and Ryuk are arguing. They both see her, but pay her no mind. 

“There’s no way L will release Misa now, isn’t that right?” Ryuk paces the room, while Light taps his pen on the desk. 

“You would know,” Light sniffs, leaning back. “You’re the one that got her arrested.”

Ryuk waves his spiked hand. “Yeah yeah, semantics. Guess you’ll go forever without knowing L’s real name.”

The smile that creeps over Light’s face reminds Rem of an apple cut open, revealing the rot and maggots teeming beneath. “Oh, but I don’t need to know. L is already aware the Second Kira can kill without knowing someone’s name. And he has the Second Kira in custody. Which means he has no choice but to  _ erase  _ Misa, to keep himself safe and continue our little game.”

“So what?” Ryuk shakes his head. “L kills Misa for you, and then what?” 

“Nope,” sings Light, all but preening under the attention. 

“Then  _ why  _ would you drive Misa into that corner?  _ Why _ put her in that position when you know perfectly well that it’s a dead end?”

Light looks at Rem. So it appears they’ve both thought this puzzle and come to the same conclusion. Rem has been doomed from the very first moment Misa saw Light. Maybe even before that. 

She raises her head. “Because he’s certain I’ll save Misa.” 

Light beams. “That’s absolutely right.” He begins tapping his pen again, like a heartbeat. “Go ahead and spell it out, will you?” 

Rem takes a deep breath. “The only way for Misa to live is for L to die. Because his life is supposed to last as long as Kira, it is I who must write his name in the Death Note. And I can’t…” she takes a second to collect herself, ignoring the jaw-dropped look Ryuk is giving her to look right at Light. “I can’t kill  _ you  _ because it wouldn’t save Misa.”

“Furthermore,” says Light. “Without me, she loses her will to live. If I die, she’ll sooner hang herself than continue on.”

Rem knows that’s a lie. Her wipe of Misa’s memory is the last act of defiance she has in her. Misa will continue on, no matter what happens. She’s strong like that, and Rem will give her everything she needs to be happy. Including a fresh start. She has a plan, one to outwit even Light. There’s no way for her to survive, of course, but Misa will live on. She rises to her feet. 

“Once I kill L—”

“Misa will be released.” Light drops his pen. “And it’s  _ you  _ who we’ll be saying our goodbyes to.” 

Rem lets out a bitter chuckle. “You let Misa get arrested. You  _ knew  _ this was going to happen.” 

Light shrugs. “You were too attached, too overprotective, always getting in my way. Two birds with one stone, as they say.” He crosses the room, standing next to Rem. She sees the Death Note hovering in front of her face, mechanically takes it from Light. He smiles. “Good. Now, let me tell you exactly what you will write down. Just this, word for word.”

He does, whispered in Rem’s ear. At 9:00 PM, L will go to Daikoku Wharf with a loaded pistol. At 10:03 PM, he will proceed to hold Light hostage in warehouse three, before providing adequate proof that he is Kira and then shooting himself in the head. Light will exit victorious, and be honored as the one who finally brought Kira to justice.

It’s all rather clever, Rem thinks as Light walks out for dinner, leaving only her and Ryuk. He has remained uncharacteristically silent the entire exchange, and when he speaks, it is incredulous. “Rem, you’re joking. You have to be.” Ryuk laughs. “ _ Rem. _ ”

She is suddenly exhausted. “What.” 

“Killing people for a reason isn’t our style. If you do this, then it’s the end of you. Remember what happened to Gelus? You’re being ridiculous, put that pen down—”

“You cannot persuade me out of this.” 

He shakes his head. “I knew you were involved, but this is insanity. Don’t tell me you’re so sweet on that girl that you’d kill the detective?”

“Fine,” Rem scoffs, opening the Death Note to the latest page. “I won’t tell you.”

“No.  _ No.  _ Don’t do it.” He’s not pleading, Ryuk never pleads, but the disbelief is obvious in his tone. He isn’t desperate for her to continue her meaningless existence, he just can’t fathom a Shinigami  _ not  _ existing. 

Rem looks at him, steely certainty in her expression. “Just do me a favor, will you? In exchange for all the time I spent dealing with your melodrama.”

Ryuk nods, teeth bristling when he grins. “What is it?”

“Kill Light for me. After the detective dies, write Light’s name in the Note.” This is Rem’s last act of defiance. When Light dies, Misa will be free to live, free to move on and be happy without Light swooping back in and pulling her into a toxic web. “Promise me you’ll kill him.”

Ryuk shrugs. “Of course. Would be boring anyways, with just him. But answer me this:  _ why _ ?” It’s an abrasive sound, like the screech of a vulture or the rumble of a collapsing landslide. 

Rem smiles. She’s always lived without this, watching people talk about it, write poetry about it, even kill for it. But she never quite understood it until it was right in front of her. She thought Misa was foolish for her mindless devotion, but she’s figured it out now. Because now, she has someone to die for. Now, she has someone to treasure until the very end. 

“Love, Ryuk. When you have it, truly have it, you’ll do anything.”

It happens far too fast, catches you off guard and puts you through the worst tortures imaginable. But even now, as Rem puts the pen to the paper, all she feels is peace. It’s unreal, how calm everything is. 

Ryuk’s hand brushes her shoulder. “If love is anything like this, I think I’m alright without it.” He vanishes, and it’s only Rem and her thoughts, which are of Misa. 

Rem knows that even if she’s gone, Misa will live on. And without Light to harm her, Misa can be happy. She can flourish and move on from all of this. Hopefully she’ll keep her love, hold it close with her. Even if she won’t remember Rem, it’ll be okay, because she’ll remember what it’s like to love. It’s a comfort, knowing that Rem’s sacrifice will save Misa. And at the end of the day, this is so much more than just being a Shinigami. Rem has spent her entire existence taking, but now she can finally give. And she will give Misa everything she has.

It’s time.

Rem takes a deep breath. And she writes.

* * *

Perhaps the universe feels merciful, or perhaps this is just a loophole Rem forgot to take into account, but when she appears in Misa’s cell, the girl looks up and sees her. They have let her down from the cross, and she sits in a small room, awaiting news. She does not stumble back this time, only nods. “Are you here to kill me?” She sounds so very small, but is the same as she's always been, a sprite of glass and light. 

Rem shakes her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Everything feels wrong, like she has forfeited control over her body. This existence is no longer hers. She has broken the Rule, the most major one of them all. But she still has rules left to break. So she goes to kneel by Misa, brushing a lock of hair from her face gently. 

“Who are you?”

Rem shakes her head again, drinking in the sight of Misa with a fevered desperation. She takes it and holds it in her mind, selfish to the very end. This is the one thing that propelled her hand across the page: the knowledge that Misa would live on. Her heart would beat and her hummingbird-wings would flutter, and she would smile again. She would be  _ happy.  _

Rem had never understood sacrifice, not until now. She feels no fear or regret, only an all-consuming peace. 

Misa is not the same. She begins to shake, emotions rushing across her face like running water. “I...I remember you.”

Rem jolts. What had she said, yesterday? Only the memories would be removed. Feeling would remain, only without anything to tie them together. Here, there was no Kira, there was no Note, and there were no boundaries keeping them apart. It was just Misa. Alive and full to the brim with something that spills out with every teary tremor.

“I don’t know who you are,” whispers Misa, tears brimming in her wide eyes. “I don’t remember you, but I know I love you. I love you.”

“Love,” Rem says, a bittersweet smile on her face. “Is for dreamers are fools.” 

Rem’s fingers curl on the underside of Misa’s jaw, but it is the girl who leans in first. Her lips are softer than moonlight, and taste faintly of blood. Beneath that, however, is the sweet-flavored gloss she wore every day. Rem had spent so long imagining this moment, but nothing compares to how Misa’s mouth feels on hers, pressed in a delicate kiss that shakes the very foundations of Rem’s being. That little place hollowed out inside of her is filled, coursing with love. For a moment, she feels whole, like this is where she was meant to be, all along. She could lose herself in this kiss forever. 

Somewhere far away, L takes his last breath, and Rem turns to dust in Misa’s hands, crumbling apart into cinders and shimmering sand. It’s painless, and her last thought is of Misa—how much she loves this girl, one who is careless with her heart and so beautifully alive. But then Rem is gone, and her thoughts are of nothing at all. Everything that remains of her body is dust, tinted faintly violet-blue and silver. 

In Misa’s eyes, it almost looks like starlight.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so when I first listened to the musical I totally fangirled over Rem and simultaneously facepalmed over the Misa "no homo" Amane. And then I sat down at wrote the entire musical but from Rem's very angsty, very sad perspective. She's such a fascinating character and I adore her relationship with Misa.  
Many thanks to my girlfriend, swanofthelake, for beta reading this fic and giving me her support <3 <3 <3 love you, angel.  
I pretty much thrive off of comments, so please tell me your thoughts on the fic?


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